Risky Business

by Melissa Cutler

  As she would have, too. “You and he are friends, though, right?”

  It was hard to tell sometimes, given how much Will seemed to relish the opportunity to tick Theo off.

  “Yeah, we’re cool. But if your friends won’t give you hell when you act like a dick, what good are they?”

  True, that.

  She watched Will walk to a massive black truck and toss his hockey bag in the back, then climb into the driver’s seat. Friends. She’d found out who her real friends were during the well-publicized scandal of Lowell’s arrest and trial. That had been one of many hidden blessings to emerge out of the disaster of the last year. There had been a lot of people who’d turned their backs on Allison—just about every one of the politicians’ wives in her and Lowell’s social circles acted like she didn’t exist—but her three siblings had rallied around her and continued to do so.

  She was looking forward to Janie and Grant’s arrival on Saturday. Not because she wanted her stuff, which she did, but because she was craving familiar faces, even though she’d only been away from her family for a week. They’d wanted to accompany her to Destiny Falls from day one, to help her move and get settled, but she’d asked them to hold off, thinking that she needed to embark on that part of her journey on her own, like some kind of misguided symbolic gesture.

  Well, screw symbolism. She couldn’t wait to spend the day with Janie and Grant. Knowing that it’d tick Theo off that she was moving all her possessions into the landing house was icing on the cake.

  Chapter Nine

  Early on Saturday, Duke, Brandon, and Will arrived, ready to work. Allison had awoken that morning filled with butterflies in anticipation of Janie and Grant’s arrival, and she greeted the workers at the door with enough exuberance that Brandon teased her about not needing the coffee he’d brought her.

  When she’d asked about Liam’s whereabouts, Duke had dismissed the question with a swat to the air. “He had his own stuff going on today.”

  Liam was one of the people in her new life at Cloud Nine who remained an enigma to her. He scared her a little, if she was being honest. He was closed off and tense, with an agitated, angry energy that seemed ready to burst at any moment, like he was a living, breathing bomb. Even though she really liked his sister, Olivia, she’d been struck by an unexpected sense of relief that he hadn’t come that morning.

  The other enigma in her life, Theo, had come through the office briefly, but Duke sent him to the garage with two nail guns that needed fixing. Despite his hostility toward her, and the off-balance, fluttery feeling she got every time he was near, his enigmatic qualities drew her in, unlike Liam. She couldn’t stop from seeking him out with her gaze every time she walked outside or passed the garage. And, not that she’d admit it aloud, but part of her eagerness for Janie and Grant’s arrival, as well as the storage pod, was her anticipation of his reaction.

  Too restless to be productive, she watched the men work from her perch on top of the reception desk, sipping coffee, while Katie knocked toys off the tray of her activity station.

  She had no idea what time the storage pod company would be dropping off her pod, or when Grant and Janie would be arriving, other than the vague promise of all involved to arrive before noon. Still, she darted glances out the window every time a car passed. They wouldn’t be able to move furniture into the main office or sitting area in front of the fireplace until Duke’s crew laid the flooring, whenever that happened, but at least they could get the upstairs set up to Allison’s liking and unearth her kitchenware and Katie’s things.

  “Allison, what did you think of the game on Thursday?” Brandon asked into the lengthening quiet.

  “I loved it. Bomb Squad is something else. The men’s league in Buffalo is nothing like what you guys do.”

  “The boys do okay, don’t they?” Duke tried to play it cool, but Allison read his pride easily enough.

  “We have levels of teams in the Canal Towns League like the Buffalo teams, that aren’t as serious as we are. Guys just out for a good time and to let off steam after work,” Brandon said.

  “Isn’t that what Bomb Squad is, except that your idea of a good time is kicking ass on the ice?” Nothing wrong with a little harmless flattery if it might earn her more brownie points with Theo’s friends.

  Mixing a grayish-white paste in a bucket near the hearth, Will chuckled and shook his head.

  Allison planted a hand on her hip with mock indignation. “What’s so funny?”

  He looked abashed. “I like it when girls cuss. Little bitty body, whole lot of attitude. It’s cool.”

  “We’re going to get the gig,” Brandon said. “I can feel it.”

  “What gig?”

  Duke looked flummoxed at the question. “Theo didn’t tell you?”

  “Uh, no. He doesn’t exactly approve of my existence.”

  Will grinned. “I’m not so sure. Last night in the locker room, he was saying how—”

  Brandon slammed a nail gun onto the makeshift workbench they’d erected. “Don’t be a dick.”

  Will held his hands up in surrender. “Have it your way.”

  She desperately wanted to know what Theo had said in the locker room about her, but she wouldn’t dream of revealing how deeply curious she was by pressing for more information. “Tell me about the gig,” she said instead, to Brandon.

  “The gig is an exhibition game in April sponsored by Wounded Veterans International. We’d be playing against a Russian team of wounded vets.”

  “What a cool opportunity,” Allison said. “Isn’t that what you hockey guys live for—a chance to beat the Russians?”

  Brandon raised his coffee mug in a toast. “Absolutely.”

  “We put our bid in—well, I put our bid in—months ago, and last week, they sent scouts to our game, and yesterday Duke and Theo went to a logistical planning meeting with executives from WWI and the mayor and city planner, so we’re thinking there’s a pretty decent chance of being selected.”

  Allison raised her mug, too. “Wounded Veterans International would be fools not to choose Bomb Squad for the exhibition game.”

  “Brandon’s bionic leg alone should get us the gig,” Will said.

  Now that the subject had been broached, Allison didn’t feel like she was crossing any sort of lines by commenting. “I agree. I wasn’t aware until after the game started that you were all vets who’d been injured in combat.”

  Will held up his prosthetic. “You knew about my injury.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t know it was a battle wound.”

  “Does that change things in your mind?”

  It did. Though she couldn’t decide if Will was being standoffish with the question or just curious, she decided to take a chance and be honest. “It does, for me. I don’t take it lightly that soldiers sacrifice their safety and sometimes their lives for our freedom. So, yes, knowing that all of you got your wounds in battle matters. It should matter to everyone in this country.”

  Will chortled. “It doesn’t. Trust me.”

  “Well, it should,” she said. “Maybe the exhibition game will help with that.”

  Duke lifted his ball cap and scratched his forehead. “I’m just hoping it shows other vets who are struggling that there’s hope. Hell, I’d love it if they all flooded Destiny Falls. This is a great haven for soldiers.”

  “Thanks to you,” Will said quietly.

  Duke grunted.

  “How did you all come to live in Destiny Falls? I assume you’re not all from here.”

  “Liam is, but he’s the only one,” Brandon said. “I’m from Connecticut. But I went through rehab in a VA facility outside of Buffalo, which is where I met Duke.”

  “I’m from Georgia,” Will said. “Same story. I was going through rehab, wondering what the hell I was going to do with the rest of my life with only one hand, and th
at’s when Duke found me.”

  “You girls are making me blush,” Duke said. To Allison, he added, “All I do is give soldiers the second chance I never had when I came back from Vietnam. Nothing special.”

  Brandon and Will grumbled in protest.

  Brandon grabbed the thermos and topped off Allison’s mug, then his own. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s saved a lot of lives, mine included. I was in a spiral after I got out of Walter Reed. Never played ice hockey before in my life, but Duke told me he wouldn’t hire me unless I played on Bomb Squad. I felt like I’d already lost everything, so I had nothing to lose by giving it a try.”

  Duke rubbed his neck, obviously uncomfortable with the praise. “It’s not just me being an asshole, making them play for the team. It’s good for the guys when they come back, because that’s one of the things you lose when you get out of the service—the brotherhood.”

  “So you give them a new brotherhood.”

  “I don’t give them anything. I just open the door. They have to walk through and take the chance.”

  “Were you wounded in combat?” Allison asked.

  Duke tapped his temple. “Only up here, but that was enough to sideline me for a long time. Drugs, alcohol—I tried all kinds of self-medicating to quiet the demons in my head before I figured out that I was hurting the country I fought to protect by polluting it with my sins.”

  Made sense. Allison had soldiers in her extended family who’d never been the same after returning from war, and others still who suffered depression and alcoholism; but none had ever shared their stories with her as openly as Duke. She had come near death and had the demons to prove it, too, but a water curse was nothing compared to what soldiers went through.

  She’d been one of the lucky ones, surviving a near drowning without any permanent brain or respiratory damage, though it’d taken her body years to recover completely. Even longer for her parents and the rest of her family to stop treating her like she was made of glass. Her gaze slid to the street beyond the front window. Had Janie and Grant ever really stopped treating her like that? That was up for debate.

  Brandon nudged her arm. “You know what they say about a watched pot.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  “Homesick?”

  “No.” Oh, God, no. Though she was looking forward to spending the day with Janie and Grant, after the near constant support of her family over the past eight months, they could all use a breather. “Though I am a little stuff sick. I miss my things. My coffeepot, Katie’s high chair and crib, my bed. All those little things.”

  Will paused in filling in the cracks around the drywall with putty. “Sounds like me on my first deployment. I missed the stupidest stuff.”

  “Like what did you miss?”

  “Walking to the fridge in the middle of the night for a snack when I couldn’t sleep, then sitting in front of the TV until I was tired again.”

  “Beer,” Brandon said.

  “Getting up in the morning to a song on my clock radio, taking a shower where the water stayed the right temperature the whole time, then shaving with my electric shaver.”

  “Girls,” Brandon said.

  Will snorted, then went back to his work.

  “Did you miss girls, too?” Allison asked.

  Will shrugged one shoulder. “I did. I had a girlfriend who waited for me to come home, but . . . I have a temper. A bad one.”

  Chill bumps raced up her arms. Either she was a terrible judge of character or Will had a split personality because she couldn’t see him hurting a fly, much less as an abuser. He hunched into his work, his expression hard and distant.

  “You didn’t hurt Erica,” Duke said with absolute conviction.

  “I almost did. How about we drop the subject?”

  A heavy silence settled over the room. Duke and Brandon taped plastic over the window and hearth, looking like they were prepping to paint the walls. Allison set her mug down and picked up Katie, then walked to the window. No sign of the moving van or her siblings, but it was still early.

  Katie banged on the glass, then swayed forward, mouth open, as though trying to get the window in her mouth like she did everything else.

  As she gazed outside, letting Katie lick the glass, the storage pod truck pulled into the landing’s small lot and double-parked behind the workers’ cars. Next into the lot was a smaller car. Chelsea’s beat-up silver hatchback.

  Allison must have made a sound to go along with her utter shock because all the men stopped working.

  “What?” Will said. “Everything okay?”

  “I think so. It’s my other sister, not the one I was expecting.”

  Allison adored Chelsea, her only younger sibling. She had the sneaking suspicion it was because Chelsea had been one of the few people in Allison’s life not to treat her differently after the near drowning. Chelsea had only been four at the time, and the gravity of the situation hadn’t sunk in with her, which was probably why Allison would always have a soft spot in her heart for her. That, and her free, rambling spirit that heard music in the world. There were times, a lot of times, she wished she were more like Chelsea. Free, fearless, bold.

  How she and Allison were supposed to move a pod-worth of furniture in the house remained to be seen. Either Janie and Grant would be arriving shortly or Allison was going to have to take Duke, Will, and Brandon up on their offer to help her move in after all.

  Chelsea poured out of the car and wiggled flirty fingers at the truck driver, then turned her smile and wave to Allison. Allison waved back, wondering if she’d already slipped the driver her phone number or if that was something they’d get to right before he left.

  Chelsea opened the passenger door of the hatchback and retrieved her guitar case, which was riding shotgun, complete with a seatbelt on.

  Brandon and Will moved next to Allison to gaze outside.

  “That’s a massive storage pod.”

  The way Will said it, Allison could tell he was calculating the manual labor he’d gotten himself into with his offer to help.

  “Lowell signed everything over to me in the divorce, so I decided not to sell any of it until I figured out what I needed in my new place.”

  “More importantly, is that your sister?” Brandon asked.

  “Yes. My younger sister, Chelsea. She’s a musician.”

  She and Chelsea looked similar, sort of, if you took a good look at the shape of their faces and the slant of their noses. But Chelsea was an inch taller, a couple dress sizes smaller, and presently sporting blond hair, which was a huge change from the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo phase she’d been in the last time they’d seen each other a month or so ago. It looked like Chelsea had abandoned the black-haired goth look and had entered a Sheryl Crow phase of musicianship—her hair shaggy and her designer hole-riddled jeans and gauzy shirt accessorized with a guitar and earth tone makeup.

  With the guitar case slung across her back, she opened the hatchback and pulled out her large red suitcase. Allison’s heart sank. With Chelsea, one never knew how long she’d stay. Sometimes minutes, other times months. It all depended on her guy of the week and her gig of the week.

  “Looks like she’s staying.”

  Allison heard the interest in Brandon’s tone, but she was too preoccupied with the idea that Chelsea planned to crash at Cloud Nine and let Allison financially support her even though Alison was in financial ruin and had only moved into the landing two weeks earlier. Chelsea’s plan shouldn’t have surprised Allison; her crashing at Allison’s place was nothing new, but this move seemed particularly brazen, even for Chelsea.

  But Allison knew she’d never turn her sister away. She loved having her around. No matter how screwed up Chelsea’s life got, she knew how to find the music in every situation, which helped Allison see it, too.

  “Chelsea’s what I like to ca
ll the three Fs. Fun, fearless, and flaky,” Allison said.

  Will ribbed Brandon. “Sounds like your type.”

  Allison nearly scolded them for so quickly having designs on Chelsea, but she did seem like Brandon’s type, and he seemed like hers.

  Allison left the guys watching at the window while she met the moving truck guy and Chelsea outside. Chelsea waited patiently for Allison to sign off on the paperwork and tip the trucker before she walked him back to the truck. Sure enough, they both whipped out cell phones in what looked like a phone number exchange.

  Once the truck had pulled out of the parking lot, Chelsea moseyed over to Allison.

  “What are you doing here?” Allison asked.

  “Can’t I help my sister?”

  Oh, please. “Are Janie and Grant coming?”

  Chelsea gathered her and Katie in a bear hug. “I told them you and I could handle this without them.”

  “Geez, Chel. Really?”

  “What? They have kids. They want to stay home. I’m free and . . .” She let her words drift off in a deliberate, dramatic pause.

  “And what?” Allison said, taking the bait.

  She held Allison’s shoulders at arm’s length. “And I bet you need a babysitter.” She gave her best innocent begging face, which wasn’t all that convincing.

  Allison did need a babysitter. And a receptionist. Plus, she really did love having Chelsea around. Already, she felt lighter and freer, more ready to laugh. “You need a lot more than a job. You need a place to live.”

  “You have a spare room.”

  She did, but—“How did you know?”

  Chelsea shrugged. “Because look at this place. It’s huge. And I know you, so I know you must be restless to have some free moments without this sweetie.” She eased Katie out of Allison’s arms and into her own.

  Katie grinned brightly at her auntie, who was grinning right back at her, then Chelsea bathed Katie’s neck and cheeks with little kisses and raspberries.

  She was right about Allison wanting a few moments of me time. She looked across the grass to Locks. It’d be nice to meet her new friends for a drink every now and then. Or maybe go grocery shopping on her own. She must be desperate because that idea gave her a thrill.